


Don't Play With Me

by accioAvowal



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eliot has feelings, Gen, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, lots of cussing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioAvowal/pseuds/accioAvowal
Summary: What if...it was actually Eliot who found Quentin. And not some weird freaky child-like demon thing within him?





	1. Fuck the Library

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first not only-a-drabble fanfiction attempt so bear with me! 
> 
> I don't own The Magicians.

“Quentin!” He gasped as he reached out and touched the brunette’s arm. “I found you,” it was desperation out of his mouth. As he searched the brunette’s face for any sign of familiarity. It was not very hopeful as he kept shifting his gaze away.

“Oh, uh—” Quentin side stepped away from the man’s hand on his arm. “No sorry, I’m Brian.” He awkwardly smiled at the man.

First a frown on the man’s lips, but then a smile. “Do a card trick for me Quentin.” It was a small request and he was hopeful it would jog the other’s memory. Or at least fluke out and become actual magic then it would _really_ jog some memories.

Quentin’s smile widened and it _almost_ seemed like familiarity. Like he was about to reveal that he’d been joking the whole time, but the way he exhaled and chuckled like the request was a joke. Quentin truly was unfamiliar with the idea of card tricks. He could tell Quentin truly thought he was Brian. He was at a book store that looked like it was out of some sort of book the boy would like for fuck's sake!

"Come on,” he said desperately to the brunette. _It’s Eliot,_ he mentally added. Shifting forward to hopefully help Quentin realize who he was. “Don’t play games with me, Coldwater.”

“Uhm, sorry. I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else but I—y’know…” He was talking very fast and was very uncomfortable, Eliot could tell by him practically running away from him within seconds. _He might think he’s Brian, but that was_ very _Quentin of him._

Eliot just kind of half waved Quentin away, biting on his lip as he watched him quickly get away from him. He had to come up with a plan to get his memory back to him. He had some mild ideas: kissing him would just be far too much-- for either of them (though Eliot would be a liar to think he didn’t want to), saying 'we shared an entire life together...and died, but didn't do any of that at the same time' ...okay that one was too complicated, and shouting ‘you’re a king of Fillory,’ at him would probably scare him and is also irrelevant now that Margo was High King, or Fen because…

Margo.

Eliot felt his heart sink as he spun around, scanning the immediate area around him. How great would that have been, finding Margo within seconds of Quentin. He knew he had no luck. Not since Fillory, and the great fucking of magic, and then unfucking of it, but now The Library held it hostage, and wiped his friends’ memories.

Still Bambi would make this so much better. She made his entire life better...and now she had no idea who he was or herself for that matter. He had looked for her before Quentin. She was definitely not Margo, because any Margo places were extremely lacking in Margo. The Library had really fucked them, and they were the ones who brought magic back! Like what the fuck? He knew they fucked up but at least they unfucked it when no one else was about to!

To stay low from The Library Eliot hadn’t been using magic. And, he hadn’t been dressing how he wanted to. It hurt him honestly. Waistcoats were way better than anything he currently had at his disposal. His usual flourish had to be dampened so much just to keep himself alive and with his memories. Granted he wouldn’t mind if a few of them could go, but that was not important right now.

Eliot needed a plan, and he needed to make it quick. Who knew where that thing was or what The Library was planning for his friends. He just knew the only people he could trust didn’t even know who they were anymore. Which was the exact opposite of helpful, thanks Library.

Eliot hadn’t realized it until now but he had started walking in the direction Quentin had gone. He wondered what kind of life Brian lead. He was better dressed than Quentin, he’d give him that. Maybe getting to know Brian could help him find out how to help jog Quentin’s memories. He needed an alias that wasn’t an offhand name he threw out when anyone asked him.

Names filtered through Eliot’s mind: Fillorians, Lorians, talking animals, physical kids, other Brakebill’s students, exes… His feet came to a halt. Why? His stomach had to have fallen to ground because he literally felt his organs cave in. Of all the names to stand out to him why that one? He could feel the dark circles under his eyes get darker. No. Just no. It had to be something else. Anything but _Mike._ Even thinking it made him want to hurl.

Yet why had it stood out? Was it just because it was the most generic name Eliot could think of? Granted Brian did not sound great either but at least it did not come with the baggage of having-to-kill-an-ex-boyfriend-because-he-worked-for-The-Beast-who-wanted-to-kill-everyone. It was very generic though. He still had a sour taste in his mouth from even thinking it though.

This was going to be harder than he thought, and he needed a cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale we all deserved, okay.


	2. Fuck Brian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot trying to come up with a plan on how to handle Brian-Quentin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues!
> 
> Give me feedback and ideas on where you want this to go!  
> Everything helps!

Eliot had retrieved himself a pack of cigarettes from a convenience store. Doing things in the most muggle way wasn’t new to him since magic was gone for so long, and anytime he had to for fear of scaring the mundanes before that. Really though, just having the cigarettes appear in his cigarette book and then float into his hands was so much better than this, and he _could_ right now! Well, maybe, he wasn’t sure the state that magic was in since the syphon, but the chances of that setting off alarms at the Library were high. As he stuck one of the cigarettes between his lips he almost started to cast the spell for the flame to light the cigarette when his brain caught up with his hands.

After lighting it with a lighter he was now finally feeling a little bit of relief from the nicotine. Now he could maybe come up with a plan on this Brian versus Quentin problem. He didn’t need to use a spell to look at Quentin’s mind to know that his memories had been wiped. He already knew everyone’s minds had been wiped with that potion that Dean Fogg had dosed them with. It was probably Eliot’s own destroyed liver thanks to alcohol that made him end up vomiting it all up before it took over his own mind. Alcoholism was good for one thing he guessed.

Eliot was under the assumption that everyone was supposed to be different than themselves, yet here Brian-Quentin was buying books. Eliot hadn’t gotten a close look at the books but the two volumes were both thick. So, he was still probably a nerd…just not for old rapist pedophile books. Which in some ways that was good, and others not at all. If he had still been into them at least Eliot would have an in…Unless he found a way through the earlier very awkward meeting. Like ‘hey sorry I thought your name was Quentin I was just a little high…’ Huh, how would this weird Quentin take to Eliot saying he was on drugs? Would he be repulsed? Fuck! Why was this so hard?

Why couldn’t he just _be_ Quentin? He obviously _was_ , but that stupid potion—And Dean Fogg did it! What the fuck! After these stupid what 40 timelines for the Beast thing and then he just throws them a memory wiping potion to get rid of all of it! They saved everyone, not once, but twice and this is what they got. Hey, here’s magic for you depressed young adults, but once you fix shit we’re going to take it all away from you. How fucked up is that?

Eliot groaned finding a bench to sit on and hang his head in his hands. He had to look at this like he would look at something in Fillory. Try to find the most diplomatic solution to the problem. The problem was getting Quentin to remember anything. Then the two of them could find the others and hopefully do the same. He sat up on the bench, still thinking, but trying to channel his High King energy.

All Eliot knew about Quentin—Brian was that he would buy two big books. Again, very Quentin of him to do… Did they just revert Quentin to what he would have been without magic? Was Quentin still depressed? Oh no, he could not leave him alone in a magicless life if that was the case.

Eliot knew Quentin was accepted into a lot of the big universities, wasn’t he? Maybe that’s where they put him… He pulled out the phone they had planted on him and pulled up a map of the area. It looked like the closest university was New York University. Not Harvard, but he guessed it was more Brian’s style. Honestly, he had no idea; he was just guessing at this point.

And what would Eliot do? Pretend to be a student at the school they planted Quentin at. That’s not suspicious! He had to think of what he could do in a mundane way to get by and not raise suspicions at the Library. Most of them were magical, or not a job type skill…and very suspicious as well. He could mix drinks well. So maybe that was something? Like a near-campus bar the students went to. Hopefully Brian drank.

Eliot felt his mind starting to spiral at this point. Mostly related to things about Quentin. Anything to jog his memory although right now it was only jogging Eliot’s. It was some mental supercut of every moment between them happening in his brain. It was honestly overloading his brain and emotions and honestly needed a new cigarette to replace the one he’d finished. The worst part was that Quentin didn’t have any of these memories. Not even one, and here was Eliot getting weird emotions from trying to search for anything helpful in them.

One memory stood out from the rest that Eliot couldn’t let go. It was when Eliot had found Quentin after finding out he was more-than-likely expelled…and going to get his memory wiped. The memory was ironically fitting for the problem at hand. But what stood out in the memory was what he had said to Quentin in that moment. _“How about I find you, and I don’t say magic is real. But I do seduce you and so lift your spirits that life retains its sparkle for decades.”_

Eliot took a long drag on the cigarette mulling the phrase over and over in his head. _Wow, that was like right after they first met._ He did bond fast though, especially to cute boys. He however would change a few things like he _probably_ wouldn’t seduce him (that was reserved for Quentin, not Brian, same body or not), and the goal isn’t to sparkle his life it’s to kick his brain into remembering the last few years. So maybe: I find him, befriend him, and constantly throw hints of the last three years into our conversations. Maybe?

Eliot ran his hands through his ever-growing hair, and disheveled, thanks to the Library. He really had no other options. Quentin-Brian was reminiscent of that first year Quentin, where any sudden movements would make him scamper off to hide from him. The meeting that morning also wasn’t going to help him in any way but he had to do something. Quentin was the only one of the others he had found…and one of the most important to this whole quest thing. Which with that thing, out of the prison-- which by the way a God-Killing bullet should have fucking killed it. This was not his fault. And Quentin was ready to trap himself down there forever because he was “ready.” Which again what was he supposed to do? Let one of the closest people to him trap himself with a shitty monster by himself in a fortress? No. The answer is fuck no.

Eliot took one last drag of his second cigarette before standing up, and putting it out on the bench arm rest. “Well, either fuck Brian, or _fuck_ Brian, I guess.” He began his walk towards the New York University honestly hoping the Library wouldn’t fuck _him_ if he fucked this up.

**Author's Note:**

> The finale we all deserved, okay.


End file.
